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"What you experienced was merely a preview," Azrael said. "A taste of what's to come. Those with angelic blood don't reach their true heat until their twenty-ninth year. It's... different from what you've experienced thus far."

"Different how?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

Lianna's expression was sympathetic. "More intense. More... consuming. But your mates will help you through it. That's why you need all three of them—each provides a different kind of balance to the power that will surge through you."

My head was spinning with all this new information. My grandfather was the Angel of Death. I was part celestial. I hadn'teven experienced my true heat yet. It was overwhelming, like trying to drink from a fire hose.

"I know this is a great deal to absorb at once," Azrael said, as if reading my thoughts. "We've given you much to consider, and your mates are anxiously trying to wake you from this dream-state."

"Dream-state?" I echoed. "This is a dream?"

Lianna nodded. "A true dream, one that bridges realms rather than merely playing out in your subconscious. We are really here with you, but you are also really with your mates, asleep in their presence."

"We will return to your dreams soon," Azrael promised. "There is much more to discuss, but for now, you should return to them. They're concerned for you."

As if on cue, I became aware of distant voices calling my name. Callum's deep rumble, Archer's sharp concern, Rowen's gruff command. They seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Wait," I said urgently, gripping Azrael's hand tighter. "I have so many more questions?—"

But the garden was already fading around me, colors bleeding into one another, the stone bench dissolving beneath me. The last thing I saw was Azrael's face, his strange colorless eyes filled with a mix of pride and sorrow.

"Soon, granddaughter," his voice echoed as everything went dark. "Very soon..."

I jolted awake with a violent shudder, my entire body trembling as my eyes flew open. Callum was leaning over me, his pale green eyes wide with concern. Archer and Rowen stood just behind him, both wearing identical expressions of worry.

"Sierra?" Callum's voice was tight with anxiety. "Are you alright? You were completely unresponsive."

My mind was racing, fragments of the dream still vivid in my consciousness. The garden... Lianna... Azrael with his silver hair and colorless eyes. My grandfather. The Angel of Death was my grandfather.

"I know why I can read the angelic language now," I gasped, my voice shaky as I struggled to sit upright. "I know what I am."

43

Callum

Istood frozen, my eyes fixed on Sierra's face as she jolted awake. Her silver hair was tangled around her shoulders, her eyes wide with shock and revelation. For terrifying moments before she woke, she'd been completely unresponsive—like she'd slipped beyond our reach into some other realm.

"I know why I can read the angelic language now," she gasped, sitting up with effort. "I know what I am."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Her voice had a strange quality to it, as if she'd traveled a great distance to speak these words.

"What do you mean?" I asked, kneeling beside the bed. "Sierra, what happened?"

She looked at each of us in turn, her gaze moving from me to Archer, then settling on Rowen. Her pupils were dilated, making her eyes appear almost black in the dim light of our chambers.

"Azrael," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Azrael is my grandfather."

The words hung in the air like smoke. I felt my body go rigid with shock, my mind racing to process what she'd just revealed.

"Are you certain?" Archer asked, his voice tight.

Sierra nodded, pushing herself up further against the headboard. "I saw him in a dream. No, not a regular dream. He called it a dream-state. Something that bridges realms." Her hands trembled slightly as she pushed her silver hair back from her face. "He has the same hair as mine. The same exact shade. And his eyes—they're so blue they're almost colorless."

"Fuck me," Rowen growled, his obsidian eyes widening. His tail began to twitch violently behind him, a sure sign of agitation.

Archer remained completely silent, his ice-blue eyes focused intensely on Sierra, his expression unreadable. I could practically see his mind working, connecting dots, reassessing everything we thought we knew.

I couldn't stand the distance between us any longer. Moving to the couch beside the bed, I sat down and gathered Sierra into my arms, pulling her onto my lap. She came willingly, her smaller body fitting perfectly against mine. I breathed in her scent, honey, jasmine, and something wilder, more electric now—and tried to steady myself.